


An Amicable Arrangement

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: (-ish), Alternate Universe - Regency, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 19:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Mrs. Luz is determined to see her eldest son married but George has little interest in even courting. The return of an old friend may present the perfect solution, but the bonds of matrimony are not to be treated casually.





	1. George’s Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aces_low](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/gifts).



> This started out as a semi-serious effort but quickly descended into a questionably-characterised tropey mess but I was having fun at that point so I just kept going anyway.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any mother had no greater goal than to see her children appropriately married.

However little or greatly inclined towards such matters the children were, should they not wish to be the cause of grievous parental dismay it was inevitable that they take steps towards entering the most beneficial state of matrimony. Furthermore, while an absence of suitable bachelors or bachelorettes was certainly an impediment to the pursuit of this noble goal it would no more be accepted as an excuse by a mother than a child’s claim of “but it was the fairies who ate the tea-cakes!”

Mrs. Maria Luz bore a particularly lofty challenge, having been blessed with 10 children who would come of age in quick succession and seven of them girls.  They were a respectable family with a moderate estate, and Mrs. Luz had every intention of seeing her children appropriately and beneficially matched, however even her great determination faltered in the face the county’s narrow prospects, especially when forced to acknowledge that those prospects were yet further restricted by the limited size of the dowry that could be allotted to any one child without leaving another with an insufficient amount.

In the case of Mrs. Luz an additional difficulty presented itself in the fact that while six of her children had reached a marrying age and the seventh was rapidly approaching the same, her eldest, George, had yet to make any move towards the pursuit of matrimonial prospects. To have one child married out of order was unorthodox but hardly unheard of and Mrs. Luz had the previous year seen her eldest daughter well matched with a clergyman in a nearby village, and a blind eye might be turned to a second under certain circumstances if the family were otherwise respectable in all things, but it would certainly become an embarrassment if she were seen to be arranging a spouse for a further child while her eldest remained unseen to and such a faux-pas would certainly lessen the prospects of the remaining children.

And so it came about that she was required to impress upon George once again that there was a growing urgency to her wish to see him settled.

George was a dutiful son with no wish at all to create difficulty for his mother or siblings and yet his sense of duty could not overrule the excitable and impatient nature that had lead him into all kinds of minor misadventures in his late boyhood, thus sealing his reputation among the local matrons as a low prospect, and furthermore while his mother was impatient to see him married she was not willing to do so at the cost of his happiness and while there were plenty of friends in their social circle whom George liked there were none for whom he felt even the smallest stirrings of love.

“You seemed to find great amusement in dancing with Miss Stanton at last week’s ball,” Mrs. Luz remarked over her book to her son as he shuffled a card deck aimlessly. Miss Alice Stanton was of an appropriate sort of age and came from a wealthy if only newly moneyed family and would certainly be a good prospect. Mrs. Luz had upon first meeting the girl dismissed her as too staid in character to ever get along with somebody of George’s liveliness, and so the turn of events had been a pleasant surprise.

“Hm? Oh yes,” he said, lips quirking into a wry grin. “Never before have I had a partner who was so plainly critical of the art and propriety of dancing while in the very process of taking a turn. She complained twice that I stepped on her slippers, though I did no such thing, and even if I had I could hardly be faulted for it when burdened with partner who quite clearly knew not a single step.”

Mrs. Luz sighed. She had been foolish to let her hopes get up too soon, but there were few prospects remaining that George hadn’t dismissed and while he was not unaware of the problems this caused nor was he able to offer her any workable solution.

Their talk was interrupted by Isabela and two of the other Luz sisters, returned from a walk into town.

“Have you heard the news?” Isabela cried, settling on the couch opposite George with an unladylike bounce of enthusiasm.

“What news?” George asked, for he had read the paper that morning but suspected that any news that had caught Isabela’s attention in town was of a different kind altogether.

“Mr. Toye has returned from the war at last!”


	2. An Old Friend

Upon hearing the news, George had immediately announced his intention to ride out to the village and call upon his old friend, however this was firmly forbidden by his mother who reasoned that by the time George reached the village the hour would be far too late for Mr. Toye to be pleased by unexpected visitors and that she wouldn’t have George riding about in the dead of night to return home once the meeting was done.

Though he was far too old for such childish antics, George fell into something of a sulk at this declaration, for it had been many years since he had seen his old friend and, though he had written frequent letters, the war had meant that Toye’s responses had been infrequent and his taciturn style of writing often meant that when the pages came their contents read more like the action reports of the newspapers than the personal discussions the two had often shared before Toye’s departure.

His sullen mood lasted until dinner, when it occurred to him that his sisters might have heard more news of Toye than just his arrival and proceeded to turn the mealtime conversation into something of an interrogation.

The girls quite readily admitted that they had not the pleasure of a personal encounter with Mr. Toye and that all of their information was derived from shop-gossip and rumour. However, three points remained consistent in every version of the story that they had heard: that Mr. Toye had been commended as a war hero, that his return was due to a most grievous wound of an unspecified nature which prohibited him from further combat, and that he’d arrived the previous evening and was residing in the small cottage on the far side of the village that he’d inherited from his father while he’d been away.

At this George became sullen once again, feeling cut by the fact that his friend had passed a whole day without so much as sending a card to notify George of his return, for which he was sharply scolded by his mother who reminded him that even a dear friend did not supersede the need for the man to recover from a no doubt arduous journey and set his affairs in order.

“Then I shall ride out first thing tomorrow and assist him.”

Over the course of dessert George was talked around to delay until after breakfast, but for the rest of the evening his mind was firmly occupied by thoughts of the reunion.

He and Toye has spent much of their childhoods together and although their separation had been long he was certain that their friendship would be as warm as ever but he couldn’t help but wonder at how Joe might have changed. In George’s mind Toye remained a youth of not quite twenty; with a soft, kind face; handsome, though overly given to frowning – but George has heard enough stories of young officers greatly changed after just a short commission that it was hard to imagine that his friend would be unaltered by seven years of service.

The thoughts kept him from sleep for a long time. Indeed, after the whole house had fallen silent and even the servants were abed George found himself slipping from his sheets and creeping through the darkness to the study and the private case when he’d kept the letters Toye had sent him. Every page was familiar but he perused them once again in the flickering candlelight, searching for any clue he might find as to what to expect of their reunion. The messages were most often abrupt, business-like sort of things but George tried not to let that concern him. Not every man could put their best self across on paper and he found among the lines enough stray words of friendship and care to keep his doubts at bay.

He dwelt over the papers until his eyes grew weary but even after taking himself back to bed his rest was uneasy, his mind uncalmed even in sleep.


	3. A Convenient Suggestion

For the first time in recent memory, George was early for breakfast. Once he’d ate all he could bear to, he hovered by the door for a full half hour before his mother finally granted her approval of his departure though she warned him quite firmly that he was to be attentive to the feelings of the man he was calling on and excuse himself with grace if Mr. Toye was not yet prepared to welcome visitors.

The ride down to the village was a pleasant one, the bridleway taking him past some of the prettiest scenery in the county. When he reached the village edge several people who were already out and about called out to him, expressing their dismay that he hadn’t come into town with his sisters the previous day and several more supposing that they knew his intentions in town that day. One even offered to give him directions, at which George couldn’t hold in a laugh, for even after all this time the route was as familiar to him as that to his own home.

He passed through the village and reached the road that led to the next town, following as the houses grew sparser until he finally reached the cottage where he’d once called frequently. It had saddened him to watch it fall in to disrepair over the years as it had sat unoccupied, though his greatest fear had always been that he could pass by one day to find that strangers had moved in and so discover his friend had been lost to the war.

He dismounted and tied his horse’s reigns to the fencepost, confident that the animal would be content there since he’d raised that horse since he was boy and the beast just a yearling and these visits had once been as familiar to the animal as they were to him.

The garden was overrun with weeds, but he could see where a path had been crushed through the centre and he followed it up to the door. There was a small twinge of trepidation in his chest now that he was so close, but his urge to reunite with his friend was greater and so he straightened his spine and knocked sharply on the door.

He waited, almost breathless with anticipation, for one minute and then two. Perhaps if Toye were to the rear of the house he hadn’t heard the sound and so George knocked again.

It was certain that if Toye were out then somebody in the village would have made mention of it to George as he passed through and George felt it unlikely that the man was abed for in his youth he’d been an earlier riser who’d more than once made his way to the Luz’s estate to call on George before he’d even dressed for breakfast.

He’d almost begun to consider leaving a card and departing when he heard the sound of slow steps on the other side of the door, and with a click of the latch and ear-splitting shriek of rusted hinges, it swung open.

The man standing in the entryway was recognisable as the youth George had once known but nothing boyish remained in his features. Square jawed and broad shouldered, were it not for the fact that he was leaning heavily on a cane he would be every inch the ideal of a soldier.

"Mr. Toye," he said. He hadn't intended on the formality, they were old friends after all, but he found himself wrongfooted by the sight of the much-changed man before him.

"L- Mr. Luz?"

Toye's stumbling over the form of address was a balm to George, and in an instant he was waving his hands and saying, "There! Now we're both reacquainted. Isabela tells me that you've been a day already trying to get this place fixed up after so long empty, why, you should have written ahead that you were coming home and I could have made sure it was ready for you."

"I hadn't the opportunity," Toye replied. "And it would have been a dreadful misuse of your time to work on the place when I doubt I'll be staying long."

Not staying long? George despaired. The thought of his oldest friend returning and yet already having the intention of forsaking him once more was unbearable to him. "Well tis hardly the thing to talk of leaving when you've barely even arrived!" he declared. "And won't you invite me in?"

There was one deeply awful and lingering moment in which Toye frowned and George wondered if things had changed so much that his old friend might turn him away but then he smiled in that subtle way of his, just a quirk of the lips but so obvious if you knew to look for it in his eyes, and stepped aside. “I hadn’t thought you needed the invitation,” he said, “You’ve always been welcome here.”

They progressed through the dusty hall, George observed that even with the aid of the cane Toye walked with a significant limp, and into the kitchen. It was quite evident that the room had been hastily made habitable, there was still a covering of dusk on the floor and the table and chairs in the centre were bare, the windows flung wide open to let in fresh air, and the brushes next to the fireplace indicated that it must be in need of cleaning out, but the disrepair was to be expected and George accepted Toye’s offer of a glass of water and poured it himself before settling into one of the seats without remarking upon the surroundings.

The first order of conversation was for George to bring Toye to speed on recent events in the village, repeating the contents of his last letter since Toye’s move would no doubt have prevented him from receiving in. In turn, Toye explained his return and the nature of his wound. George had already speculated on the matter, knowing that the wound must be severe for it to have been noted in the village gossip and having already observed Joe’s limp and use of the cane, but he could not entirely cover his dismay for his friend at learning the true extent of the injury. He thought that he did his mother credit in biting back the urge to ask probing and likely unwelcome questions, not because he was incurious but because he at least had enough social grace to see that such matters were best left until an evening conversation, where matters could be more easily smoothed over by the application of liquor and a distraction should awkwardness arise.

Seeing the man’s visible distaste for the direction of the conversation George turned to other matters, mainly his own far more light-hearted problems, detailing the wishes of his mother and all of the ways in which they were simply impossible to fulfil. "-And moreover, should I oblige her, then pity whomever is forced to endure having me for a husband when I am perhaps the least suited person in three counties towards matters of marriage."

“Hardly true,” Toye said. “You’re well-bred and good-tempered, with respectable habits and you’re hardly unhandsome. By any objective measure you are worthy of the most esteemed of prospects, even if you may not be by nature the marrying type. It had always been my assumption that your mother must have seen you well matched long ago and you had simply neglected to make mention of it in your letters.”

George laughed at the absurdity of that. He might have believed the opposite to be true, for Joe’s letters shared little and withheld much, after all it was he who had sent no notice of his injury or his impending return, but George had written frequently and bestowed upon Joe every interesting thought and minor excitement that it might please his friend to know, even events of the smallest significant had been remarked upon and the engagement and wedding of his sister had merited multiple lengthy missives.  "The fact remains, matters of the heart are rarely objective, and so who would have me?" he remarked. "Anybody close is aware of my past opinions on the matter and would rightfully be suspicious of a sudden interest and, having no property of my own, were I to pursue anyone more distant then I would be condemning myself to follow them to whatever place they came from."

"And since your sights are set to marriage because of your care for your family a marriage which takes you away from them could hardly be a satisfactory one," Toye surmised.

It delighted George to once again have a companion who understood him so well. He hadn't realised as a child how fortunate he had been until Toye had left for the war and he'd found himself surrounded by people who saw no distinction between a willingness to play the fool and a true fool. "Precisely."

"Then perhaps instead of building a marriage upon false affection,” Toye suggested, “It would be wiser to make an arrangement with somebody who has an understanding of your circumstances and wishes primarily to support you in ensuring the happiness of your family.”

George sighed. "Would that I knew of such a person, I should call for a carriage at once and have the driver set for Gretna Green with all haste."

"Perhaps I could be sufficient person," Toye said, leading George to set down his drinking glass with an inelegant thud. "It would not be as lofty a match as you might hope for but it would serve to ensure you continued to reside locally and you would not have to concern yourself over my misunderstanding your intentions. Not to mention the goodwill I will undoubtedly receive from your mother by refusing to be spirited off to Scotland."

For a moment George was frozen with the most acute astonishment he had felt in all of his twenty-five years of life, but slowly the sense, nay, the brilliance of the idea overcame him. In fact, after several moments of consideration he was so struck by the convenience of the suggestion that he was indeed sorely tempted to rush out and have the plan enacted at once and so turn his fortunes for the better, so much so that the only thing holding him back was the knowledge that excess haste would imply a scandal sufficient to undo the plan’s benefits.

"My friend, I could kiss you!" he declared. "In fact, seeing as we are to be engaged, to be married! I shall– But no, I suppose that I ought first of all to inform my mother, who will doubtless know better than you or I the precise steps we must take if we are to pursue such an endeavour with the fullest appearance of propriety and sincerity."  Still he could not hold back from throwing his arms around his new fiancé so overflowing with affection and delight was he.


	4. An Engagement

In fact, it was dinner time before the Luz family heard the news. Toye had discouraged George from rushing off and the newly affianced pair had discussed at some length the best way to present this development to society so that it seemed a less abrupt happening. In the end, they resolved to gently imply that matters had developed in the process of their correspondence and that it had been the circumstances of the war that had given George hesitance in intimating his hopes to those around him.

George’s siblings found the tale romantic, and once they’d recovered from their shock his parents were greatly pleased by the thought of seeing him married despite the peculiar nature of the match. Being the son of a labourer and by trade and experience a soldier, even one commended so highly for valour, Mr. Toye was by traditional view a rather low match for somebody of George’s standing, but the benefit of their long acquaintance rendered Mrs. Luz entirely confident of the quality of Mr. Toye’s character and his determination to see his prospects increased to an extent that he would be able to do his share in supporting the household until such a time that George inherited what was left of the estate after sections had been parcelled off as dowries for his siblings. Alone that may have been insufficient persuasion but George's deep and longstanding personal affection, so contrary to his usual flighty nature, was enough to make the match acceptable to her despite the fact she would have been bound by maternal duty to discourage matters had it been any of the others who had set their sights in such a direction. In addition, it was a great balm to her to know that it was an informal betrothal that had been the reason for George’s indifference to any potential courtship rather than him suffering from an inability to find any partner that might lend themselves to a future household built on love.

Now that his intended had returned, it appeared that all of George’s disinterest had evaporated and he was driven to progress with all haste and wanted nothing more than to be married immediately, only settling when reminded that even if he set out for the church at once to declare himself it would still be necessary to post banns and wait for the legally required two weeks, and therefore wasn’t it better to speak of arrangements for the wedding and proceed in the morning when he would be less likely to draw the ire of the Rector by disturbing the man at supper.

It quickly became clear that George had no opinions whatsoever on his marriage or wedding beyond an eagerness for it to occur, though once his sisters had retreated to the parlour he was discreetly reminded to show restraint as while a degree of youthful high-spiritedness was expected in a romance George’s fervour could easily be mistaken for something unseemly. They would live, George supposed, in the old cottage that Mr. Toye had inherited, the disrepair of which George dismissed as trivial; as for wedding clothes, he had plenty of respectable suits and he supposed that Mr. Toye would make a fine showing in his uniform; only when the talk turned to food did he venture any real opinion at all, and that was only that it ought to be plentiful.

Mrs. Luz found herself greatly exasperated by his indifference of opinion, but Mr. Luz discouraged her objections, personally satisfied by the fact that George’s tastes would lend themselves to an inexpensive affair that would leave a greater sum aside when the time came to arrange for the other children.

With the revelation that George had little interest in the wedding except as a necessary step towards his goal of being married, the responsibility for the arrangements were quickly surrendered to more organisationally inclined minds. He went with his father to speak inform the rector of their plans and see to the posting of the banns, setting the date for the first possible Sunday, but otherwise had little to do with arrangements.

George dedicated a day to packing up select belongings of his own that he could not bear to be without, but was not overly concerned with material things since it would be no issue to return to his family to fetch anything he felt he needed after the marriage since Toye had given him the gift of being able to stay in the village that had always been his home.

His future, once clouded with the weight of duty and expectations, now offered the dual joys of domesticity and functional bachelorhood. George suspected that there were few men more fortunate than he, for what could be more idyllic than a life with a most treasured companion who cared not for what lands or income he could bring to union but wished only his happiness and good company?

He should have liked to spend more of their engagement in Toye's company, but the man seemed rarely to have a moment for repose or company, deeply occupied in getting his affairs and home in appropriate order. In what time George did managed to steal with him it was easy to fall back into their old rhythms of conversation, Toye always willing to play a hand of cards when he stopped by the Luz’s place, and in no time at all two weeks had passed and they were due in church.


	5. A Wedding

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear with nary a cloud in the sky, as promising an omen for matrimony as anybody could have hoped for.

George rose earlier than he ever had in his life, bathing and shaving before dressing in a finely pressed suit and descending to the parlour where he made such a nuisance of himself that his mother finally decreed that he set out in the carriage for the church and then send it back for the rest of the family to take when they were ready, in the hope that the rector, who no doubt had considerable experience in dealing with impatient young people preparing to be married, had more patience for his incessant fidgeting than George’s family did.

In fact, the rector had no more patience than George’s family, but had sufficient practice to mask his exasperation at dealing with a bouncing young man determinedly inquiring as to if it would be possible to begin the service a little early.

Finally, the hour came and George proceeded, accompanied by his father (who had arrived just five minutes before the ceremony was due to commence and simply laughed at George’s fussing), into the church.

Toye, entering opposite, cut a figure - his bright red jacket stood out like a beacon, the white of his breeches tailored close to the skin to highlight the strength and shape of his form, and at that distance the way they sat oddly below the knee around his prosthetic leg was barely noticeable. He smiled at George, brighter and clearer than George had seen since his return and George nearly stumbled, but instinct kept his feet moving until they were both standing at the altar.

The vows passed in a blur, half familiar lines promising loyalty for richer and for poorer, in sickness and health, strange only in saying them aloud for such a covenant had been true between them since they were children.

Finally, the rector pronounced them married and the moment of truth was upon them. Of the whole plan, this was the only step that George had been uncertain of, a nagging fear in the back of his mind that it may reveal their private intentions to the congregation and be the unravelling of the entire plot.

He tilted his head upward, conscious for the first time since childhood of the difference in the heights, as Toye bent to meet him. The kiss, when it came, felt natural and at once George’s fear that onlookers might doubt their sincerity evaporated. Toye’s hand cradled George’s cheek tenderly, the press of his lips chaste but firm as his other hand settled across the small of George’s back to steady him, the heat of his broad palm palpable even through George’s suit, until abruptly he withdrew and left George blinking in surprise as the congregation cheered.

George remained in a daze as they moved from the church to the Luz house for further celebrations, but this went unremarked upon for such things were common for newly-weds who so often only grasped the true gravity of their new situation when it was finally upon them.

The party was, as had been George’s soul request, well provisioned. The courses were plentiful and the wine flowed freely, until George took two tries to take hold of his glass and resolved to end his drinking for the night before anybody realised that he’d been leaning ever closer to Toye’s side because he was soused rather than simply besotted. To sober himself up he ate three helpings of dessert without shame and then regaled the nearby tables with a rousing tale of the events of a cousin’s wedding the previous year which had unfortunately been interrupted when a wall had collapsed on a nearby farm, resulting in all of the young men connected to the wedding party spending most of the afternoon chasing about the countryside after sheep.

His story encouraged the telling of several others and though the group shifted as people joined and then drifted away darkness had fallen outside the windows when George next looked in their direction.

He turned to remark to his new husband on how quickly time was passing, only to be startled by the fatigue visible on his face. It was early yet for a wedding dinner, but George could see the lines of tension around Toye’s eyes, deeper than they’d been when he was young but still familiar. George had noticed a few hints of discomfort when the dancing had commenced some time earlier –Isabela and her beau opening the floor since while on a good day Toye’s prosthetic leg could stand walking short distances without the cane as he had during the wedding, but dancing remained beyond his reach– but hadn’t wished to remark and bring it to the attention of the others at the table. After a few songs Toye had leaned over to whisper that he would not begrudge George dancing without him if he so chose, but it had made George’s heart ache for him, his dearest friend did not deserve to feel such frustration and he’d remained seated - George had no intention of abandoning his husband before the wedding party was even finished. Now, his weary air was more than George could bear.

The correct course of action clear before him, George made their excuses to his parents and the guests of note, paying no mind to the knowing looks exchanged between their married guests upon witnessing his haste to depart, and within a quarter hour they were ensconced in his family’s carriage and proceeding rapidly towards the cottage that would be his new home.

The journey was swift but quiet. As soon as the door had been shut Toye had leaned against the side of the seat and shut his eyes and George was content to let him rest, watching in the dim light of the lamp as his face smoothed. Soon enough they were slowing and George turned towards the window anticipating a familiar sight, only to receive a great shock.

All arrangements for the marriage had been conducted in the village or on the Luz family’s estate and so as they drew to a halt George almost didn’t recognise the house where he and Toye had reunited a fortnight previously, the exterior having been scrubbed clean and the garden still wild in appearance but now overflowing with bright flowers instead of weeds.

They disembarked and Toye bid the coachman farewell but said nothing as to the alterations to the cottage, merely leading George up the path and over the threshold. Inside, George was arrested once more by the changes. It had been so little time since he had last entered the cottage and yet somehow it had been transformed from a run-down little place -the paint peeling on the walls and the windows almost blacked-out with grime, cluttered with the dusty kick-knacks left behind by its former occupants- into a marvel. The hall was warm and welcoming and turning the right let him see how the bare front room had become a cozy parlour, perfect for winter nights of cards and reading or hosting intimate friends and George was overcome by a curiosity to see the rest of the house.

Of course, he was worldly enough to know that the bedroom was usually the first (and only) room explored during a traditional wedding night, but since theirs was far from a traditional marriage he saw no fault in beginning as they meant to proceed.

An exploration of the lower floor quickly revealed that the transformation was as complete as it was startling, not an inch of the place revealed what a wreck it had been so very lately and, yet more impressive, there were no lingering signs of the recent improvements, giving the place not the sense of the fixer-upper project George had believed it to be but of a home.

He turned to congratulate Toye on the improvements and suggest that they play a hand of cards and so round off the evening and christen their new parlour, only to catch the man in the tail end of a yawn. At the sight, he suddenly became conscious of how long his own day had been. “Goodness,” he said. “I’d always thought married men terribly dull for their habits of leaving an evening while the excitement was still in full swing, but if to be married continues to be this exhausting I shall have to make a formal apology for my misjudgements.”

“Perhaps the morning is a better time for you to indulge your curiosity about the repairs,” Toye said. “Shall we go upstairs to bed?”

Ever the gentleman, Toye offered George first use of the cottage’s single washroom, taking his own turn when George returned. While he was absent George settled in the bed, laying claim to the side nearest the window, and tucked himself up in the blankets. It would be curious to sleep beside another again, when he hadn’t had occasion to do so since childhood, but he was certain that he would sleep soundly for the day had been long and the bed was quite extraordinarily comfortable.

He had settled just as he wished to be when Toye returned, now clad in his nightshirt. It was the first opportunity George had been given to see the full extent of Toye’s wound and he had braced himself against the sight, not wishing to disturb his friend by showing any great alarm or horror, but he found that the sight was not so shocking as he’d feared it may be, the scars and the straps of the prosthesis simply another part of his friend.

Toye seated himself on the opposite side of the bed and for several moments was occupied by removing the prosthesis. George thought to offer his assistance, but being uncertain of his welcome or his usefulness, remained silent. Once the task was done, Toye climbed fully into the bed beside him, weight sinking the mattress, before extinguishing the lamp. “Goodnight Luz,” he said.

“Since we are married now, it seems only right that you call me by my forename,” George corrected. They’d done so when they were very young, before slipping early into the more mature habit of using family names, but he found that it warmed him to once again think of the man laid beside him as Joe.

For a moment there was silence from Joe’s side of the bed, before he said softly, “Goodnight, George.”


	6. A Marriage

George found that he settled quite comfortably into the routines and rhythms of married life. To have his dearest companion become also a near constant companion, from the moment of waking to when they took themselves to bed, pleased him greatly.

Several days into their marriage they had already established a morning routine, Joe waking first and progressing through his ablutions as George followed him into wakefulness.

On that particular morning Joe was already dressed and combing his hair in the looking glass when George finally deigned to lift his head from the pillows. He caught George’s eye in the reflection and offered him a fond smile. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m going to put the kettle on in just a moment, would you like-” George stretched and then pushed the blanket back to get up, and Joe’s words stuttered to a halt.

“Are you quite alright?” George asked.

“I… I should… I shall see you at breakfast,” he concluded. “Once you’re dressed.”

George nodded, though Joe was already departing, for one of the first things he learned in their marriage was that Joe was startlingly particular about dressing for breakfast. He smoothed down his nightshirt where it had become disturbed by his tossing and turning in the night, enough buttons undone for it to be slipping off one shoulder and the linen rucked up around his thighs.

After breakfast they made their way into town together, though they parted upon arrival in order to speed up their errands, Joe going to fetch in food for the week while George visited the post office to formalise the redirection of his letters, although he was quite sure the postmaster would have seen to it without discussion it showed more respect to speak to the man himself.

George caught himself yawning several times while reading and signing the document confirming that any letters mistakenly addressed to him at his family’s home could be redirected to his marital residence and the postmaster smiled knowingly at him. George grinned back, he could never have fully foreseen the convenience of domesticity until the delightful realisation that as the evening drew late neither of them needed to abandon their round of cards in order to depart for home.

And so several weeks passed, and yet more companionable habits developed between them. Joe would often offer George a steadying hand as he completed household tasks, particularly those involving heavy lifting or reaching high shelves, it was hardly necessary but George felt warmed by the little demonstrations of affection, things that felt like they belonged in a true marriage.

However, he also found himself increasingly aware that despite their comfortable domesticity they were not truly living as married people did. A marriage unconsummated was one open to being annulled. George hadn’t given any thought to the matter prior to the wedding, he had no reason to fear that Joe would abandon him and no intention of being anything but a loyal husband to Joe, but as the days go by he can’t shake the thought of it.

He'd dismissed the matter from his mind as being of little relevance since it was unwanted by both parties but faced with new domestic intimacies and the fact that the weather was uncommonly warm even for the season, so much so that Joe took to the habit of going without any sort jacket even in public and in the privacy of their home disdained even shirts, he found his thoughts drifting in unexpected directions.

 Of late he had begun to wonder what it would have been like to have had a proper wedding night, kisses less innocent than their first and to see Joe in a far greater state of dishabille than merely a nightshirt. The image appealed and with it come detailed imaginings, and physical stirrings quickly followed.

 It had never been George's habit to dwell upon carnal matters, not due to any moral objection or excessive concern for purity but because the crowd of siblings in residence at the Luz household had always limited opportunities for extended privacy and the potential for embarrassment greatly outweighed the appeal of such thoughts.

Then, however, Joe was called upon to speak with an old military acquaintance about some developing business opportunity of interest to them both, and since the acquaintance was unwilling meet Joe halfway George found himself bereft of his husband for the three days the trip would take. For the first time in his life George was entirely alone and though he called upon his family in the day time in the evening he was left to solitary amusements and now that he possessed the privacy of an entire house and with the memory of the broad plains of husband’s chest, his muscular arms and sharp cheekbones, George found the urges much harder to repress. Better, he reasoned, to see to himself promptly than to attempt to supress the thoughts only to have the return at some inopportune moment such as in Joe’s very presence.

It was certainly a satisfying indulgence, but not as effective as George had hoped in relieving him of his scattered fantasies. When Joe returned George could hardly look at him without being struck by the memory of his imagining and found that he spent a great deal of time finding pastimes that might conceal the fact that he found himself blushing with unprecedented frequency. He was sometimes forced to avert his eyes from his husband to avoid embarrassing himself with newfound distractibility but when Joe’s attention was occupied elsewhere George also made a discreet study of his husband and noted his errors: that Joe’s fingers were longer than he’d pictured them in his mind and broader at the knuckles; the thin scars visible on his right arm when he pushed his sleeves above the elbow to work; the way his gravelly voice softened a little in certain private moments but grew rougher with exertion.

He suspected he could make a life’s work of studying his husband, observing all the little secrets and eccentricities reveals to him by their new intimacy, and oh what an education it would be.


	7. The Letter

They breakfasted upon toast and fruit, and as had quickly become a familiar habit Joe was fully dressed and just finishing at the same time George came down (in full day dress for the sake of his husband although he would have preferred to rest longer in his nightclothes), leaving them just enough time to exchange pleasant morning greetings before Joe departed, not to return until much later in the day, when George was finally wakeful enough to make for interesting company.

On that particular day, Joe left with the intention of riding into town to meet with another of his old military friends, with whom he was conducting a sort of business that George hadn’t quite made sense of but which Joe was certain would raise healthy profits with diligent enough work. In turn, George had a fair range of skills, from the traditionally gentlemanly to those learned by every country boy, but he had only ever used them in service of family and friends and had not yet taken on any sort of regular employment – although he was determined to seek some before the small sum granted by his parents was used up and made him a burden on the household. For the day, his attention was on the baker’s watch, which had been running stubbornly slow for weeks and led to a great number of loaves burning, for although he’d taken no relevant apprenticeship George had a great fascination with all things mechanical and was quite certain that a few hours of attention could have the thing running right again without the time and expense of it being sent off to a proper clockmaker.

He suspected that the watch would occupy most of his morning, and after it’s hopeful repair he intended on walking into the village to return it to its owner and then procure such supplies as to be able to serve Joe an adequate dinner upon his return. If he had time after cooking George would heat water enough to draw Joe a bath, knowing that, while his husband would never complain, the long rides he took for business often wore upon him.

George was just laying out the essential tools for the watch repair when he noticed that Joe had left his letters on the table without so much as a paperweight, where with the window wide open they might easily be caught by a breeze. He gathered them up, meaning to remove them to a more sensible location, and if later asked would not have been able to explain why his eyes drifted over the top page, only that once he’d begun reading it was impossible to stop.

The letter was writ across a single sheet in a loose hand and read:

 

_Toye,_

_What a scene you have found yourself in! Courtesy says that I ought express my sympathy but, though I pity your part in it, I cannot deny my enjoyment of the tale and feel no remorse - for did you not ignore all of my cautions?_

_I understand that it would be unbearable to you to see your sweetheart married to another, after all it was I who on so many nights listened to your fears that you would return with the fortune necessary for to put forth a worthy suit only to find any opportunity lost, and your responding course of action would be most admirably bold if I believed you intended to see it through to its proper conclusion but instead you surrender to half measures and so have barely a taste of what you long for._

_Had you sent but one of the many love letters that you penned during the war to your devoted correspondent I am certain this whole mess may have been avoided, but alas, the time for conventional wooing has passed. My advice to you is honesty and directness, be frank, since tis apparent to me that none of the involved parties have any mastery of the subtleties of the heart and continued attempts at delicacy are only driving you into deeper dissatisfaction._

_Any rate, I am expectant of a direct response and as thorough a detailing as you can provide of the events as they unfold, for there is little diversion to be had here and certainly none of the news from the war can amuse me quite so much as your tale of woe._

_Yr Friend  
         Sgt. William Guarnere_

 

George set the paper down carefully, making sure to place it so it wouldn’t be evident it had been disturbed, only to feel immediately guilty at covering up his already inappropriate prying. It was clearly a private correspondence and the wisest choice would be for George to put it from his mind and forget the thing entirely, yet how could he possibly do so given what he had read?

Though he knew he oughtn’t, George picked up the paper and read it again, trying to make sense of the contents. The senders name was familiar, one he recognised from Joe’s stories, but the rest was a puzzle to him. He tried to imagine the nature of this sweetheart of Joe’s but found that such a creature was unfathomable to him. Perhaps Joe had been changed more by the war than he’d first realised for the youth he remembered had shown little interest in coquetry or courtship, preferring to pass his time hiking or fishing in George’s company, and his eye had never wandered since returning, although George supposed that might simply be him playing his part in their marriage.

And yet, what a person they must be to have earned such attention, for George had written with perhaps excessive frequency and considered himself lucky to get one answering note for every five full letters he sent Joe on account of the war, but perhaps it was attending on this mysterious sweetheart and their ardent missives that had occupied Joe’s pen. To think of Joe writing love letters of all the things, while George had been grateful to receive messages that were often little more than reports of the weather and outdate details of battles that had been discussed in the newspaper days or even weeks before Joe’s letters arrived.

Ultimately George dwelt for such a time on the revelations that by the time he’d done as he’d intended and put the papers away much of the morning had escaped him and he was forced to tell the baker than the man would have to wait another day to see his watch mended.


	8. A Discussion

Four days passed in which George made a most determined effort to put out of his mind all that he had read, reminding himself that the letter had been no business of his, and moreover that their agreement had been one of appearances and despite their marriage he had no claim on Joe’s true affections and so no entitlement to the simmering jealousy that lead to him being snappish and withdrawn from his husband.

What little consideration he’d given to the possibility of Joe’s baser urges hadn’t concerned him before their marriage, though he’d vaguely assumed that if necessary Joe would carry on in whatever discreet manner he’d conducted himself while in the service, and George certainly hadn’t anticipated his own blossoming want. Even now he could have turned a blind eye to Joe seeking satisfaction elsewhere for his physical cravings since he’d never promised George otherwise, though envy speared through him at the thought of Joe making such attentions upon another, but the thought of Joe being in _love_ with this unknown person left him heartsore.

In the passing of time, however, his unhappiness at learning of Joe’s feelings for another and his guilt at having invaded Joe’s privacy, in the home that he had welcomed George into no less, overcame him.

“I read your letter,” he confessed over supper that night.

Joe looked immediately perturbed. “I had no letters this morning.”

“It was several days ago,” George explained. “A missive from a Sergeant Guarnere.”

Joe paled at once, and George wondered if it was because he was immediately aware of what George must have read or if all of his letters to that particular friend were of such a nature that he’d prefer them concealed from George.

It was his own errors that George was concerned with however, and not judging Joe for his secrets, so he continued, “This sweetheart of yours… it was never my intention to keep you from happiness.”  Much as the thought of Joe’s departure wounded him, the thought of Joe staying unwillingly and being less than content was far worse. “I would never have considered your offer if I’d know that you longed for another.”

“I’d never have made the offer had I meant it with anything less than the most complete sincerity,” Joe replied.

“But this person who is the recipient of your affections-”

“-does not return my sentiments.”

George fell to a halt, lip catching between his teeth as he rethinks his next words. It seemed quite nonsensical to him that any person could reject even the slightest of Joe’s affections, and the letter had certainly made it seem as if Sergeant Guarnere believed there was a chance for reciprocity between Joe and his beloved, but Joe’s flat hollow tone made it clear that he was certain that his feelings were not requited, although he hadn’t denied loving another.

“Nevertheless, if circumstances changed…” George said hesitantly. This was not an offer he wished to make, but, “I would not argue against an annulment if your heart belongs elsewhere.” He’d like nothing more than to beg Joe to stay, and certainly George’s pride would have permitted it for it was insignificant in the face of his love if surrendering it would allow him to build whatever life they could out of this sham of a marriage, but there was also little he wouldn’t do to make Joe happy and if George’s support for his departure was what he needed then George could hardly deny it simply for the sake of avoiding heartbreak.

“An annulment?” Joe looked stricken at the words, and then furious. “You think so little of my honour that you believe I might ask a thing like that?”

“I think your honour would never permit you ask,” George corrected, knowing it to be true. “Therefore, being desirous of your happiness as I am, I must offer it to you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Joe said firmly. “Concern yourself not with such things. Whatever my other feelings may be, I am principally devoted to our friendship and would never rescind on or betray my promises to you.”

George could see from the set of his jaw that Joe was inclined to be stubborn beyond reason about the matter, but in a case such as this he was obliged to argue, little though he liked to disagree. “It our friendship that means I should loathe to hold you back from your happiness!”

Joe reached over the table, catching George by the hand. “I am happy,” he said, although George was certain the statement was not as true as he would like. “I should rather build a happy future as your friend than chase a romantic folly that would only end in harm.”

“You’re so certain that this love is a mistake?” George couldn’t help but ask.

“I am certain that I would be mistaken to cast aside what I already have,” Joe replied. “Put the letter from your mind, I have already replied to my friend that there is no hope in such a direction.”

George nodded. Though it still ached to know that Joe had felt so ardently for another and he pitied his friend his disappointment, George could not help feeling a flicker of hope at the fact the Joe’s heart might yet be free to be claimed.


	9. A Discovery

In the aftermath of the revelations, George redoubled his domestic efforts. He had little notion of how to instigate romance and his thoughts of seduction only resulted in him being required to take ever more frequent brisk walks to relieve excess energies. Instead, he focused on being a worthier husband, that Joe might come to value him as true spouses did and not think of the fact that he had entered into this arrangement due to the pressure of George’s circumstances.

George rose with Joe in the mornings, preparing the man’s breakfast while he dressed, and attempted to provide the same sort of vibrant conversation that he did after greater rest. Once Joe departed for his business dealings, George persisted with his efforts to find productive uses of his time, although he felt a quiet frustration that Joe had made such a thorough and impressive job of fixing up the cottage before George’s arrival because as beautiful as the work was it deprived George of just the sort of project that would be ideal for a newlywed.

Instead he set himself to smaller domestic tasks. In the early weeks of their marriage their meals had been a shared responsibility, and more often than not a selection of cold meats and cheeses was as likely to be on their table as anything more substantial, but George focused himself on cookery. It was not a natural talent, he lacked the patience to stand over the stove and passively monitor things until they were ready, but he took every piece of advice and gathered up every recipe he can, determined to at least make himself useful to Joe.

Solicitousness ought to accompany usefulness, but George found he didn’t know how to show this new dimension to his feelings for Joe when he had already been so attentive to his friend as part of the usual course of things. The modes of flirtation that he was familiar with were so far from applicable in his marriage – he already laughed openly at every snatch of Joe’s sly humour and had never held back from friendly touches. Coquettish behaviour felt at odds with his direct nature and moreover there was little to be coy about when they were already married.

He wished that he could simply sit down across from Joe at the dinner table and admit that he’d like to make more out of their marriage than a friendly arrangement, but that wasn’t possible as long as he knew that Joe is too in love with another to return his feelings. Patience had never been one of George’s foremost virtues, but for Joe he could wait an eternity.

Though it would certainly be a frustrating eternity.

Still, he was going to persevere and perhaps in time Joe will be sufficiently recovered from being spurned from his mystery love that he might be open to considering the attractions of his husband.

George’s impatience was soothed by every reminder of their marriage and the knowledge that whatever beauty caught Joe's fancy, George would not have to worry about him being spirited away to the capital or, god forbid, the continent in some whirlwind romance. His friend was secured and building his life in the village, and even if he never fully returned George’s feelings George would treasure the knowledge that his friend would not leave again. If Joe never returned his feelings then that closeness would be enough.

That afternoon he occupied himself with tidying the sitting room, particularly in gathering up the various pens and documents that had gathered there when work and amusement had overlapped and taking them back to the small second upstairs room that had come to serve as a sort of office for Joe’s business, although George often read on the sofa in the corner while he worked. He went over to the desk to put them away but he pulled harder than he meant to, the drawer coming all the way out of the desk, so that the very deepest part of it, usually hidden in shadows, was visible to him, as was its contents. They were a great temptation but George felt a lesson had been learned about prying into his husband’s affairs. The letters, bound with a fraying length of ribbon and secreted away as they were, seemed a clear token of the sweetheart Sergeant Guarnere had written of and since that was so clearly Joe’s private business George resolved not to read a single word.

He shut the draw firmly and moved to finish tiding the room. His resolve might truly have held had he not stumbled upon more papers that needed to be put in the drawer, and as he opened it a second time he observed the hand in which Joe’s treasured letters were written, all sharp angles and ink smudges, and had to stifle a gasp.

A closer examination revealed without a doubt that the handwriting could not belong to the mysterious stranger who’d stolen Joe’s heart because now that George wasn’t being deliberately inattentive the script was indisputably his own.

Filled with boldness at recognising the first letter, George thumbed through the rest and found that the whole collection was penned by his own hand. Joe had kept his letters. Certainly not their whole correspondence, Joe would have needed far more than a drawer for that, but enough for George to feel suddenly amplified by the knowledge that however dearly Joe might have cherished the letters from his mysterious lover George’s own had not been without value to him.

He tucked the letters back into their hiding place, heart light, and retreated from the office.


	10. The Truth

Despite his yet to be requited affections, George believed the state of his marriage to be generally splendid, if unexpectedly physically frustrating, and so was quite surprised when Joe laid down his hand of cards one evening and asks, “Do you regret agreeing to my proposition?”

George blinked at him, nonplussed. “Why would you ask that?”

“You agreed only out of desperation,” Joe pointed out. “At the time, it seemed that you were happy despite that, but you’ve been acting most peculiarly of late. I must begin to wonder if you are now having doubts about the haste with which you accepted my offer.”

For Joe to be having doubts about George’s disposition towards the marriage! Oh, but George must have erred in his behaviour indeed. “In all my life, I never met even one person I thought I could bear to be married to, but when you asked me I realied that nothing could make me happier and my sentiments are unchanged.”

“And yet I see new marks of discontent in you with every passing day,” Joe said. “And I bid you not to pretend otherwise, for after twenty years of friendship I am sure enough in my knowledge of your habits to be confident of my observations.”

George frowned. He disliked the thought of Joe thinking that he had any blame for George’s foolish heartsickness yet to mislead Joe was not only un-husbandly but likely a doomed endeavour, for Joe had always known him best and if he had detected George’s longing then it was only a matter of time before he divined its cause, assisted or not. George’s only recourse was confession, and the hope that Joe was friend enough not to hold George’s desires against him. “I am afraid that I’ve begun to wish that you loved me.”

Joe stared at him in the utmost befuddlement. “Of course I love you.”

“As a dear friend, yes, and I the same to you, but since the wedding I’ve come to care for you in the true manner of a husband though I knew I oughtn’t and that you asked my hand merely because of my need to assure the wellbeing of my family.”

“I waited ten years to ask you,” Joe said frankly.

 George rubbed at an ear, certain he had misheard. “Pardon?”

“From the moment that I realised I wanted to marry you,” Joe explained. “It’s been ten years, coming up on ten and a half. I confess I don’t recall the exact date, only that it was winter and I hadn’t been expecting you to call after such a heavy night of snowfall. Your hair was quite terribly windblown when you arrived and the wind had put such colour in your cheeks, you were so lovely but I wanted to shake you for being foolish enough to be out in such weather. You stayed all day and you were sneezing by mid-afternoon, you insisted your mother wanted you home by supper and I couldn’t stand the thought of you going back out in that weather and your chill worsening. I thought was a dreadful shame it was that you couldn’t stay, for you would always have greater connections than I – your family, and later a husband or wife. My mind had idled upon you before that, but it was then that I realised the depths of my feelings, for thinking of you married to another brought me such discontent and so it became clear that it was essential to my happiness that I married you.”

“Then? But you never gave any indication.”

“No, I could not bear to risk putting such a strain on our friendship,” Joe said. “You preferred ballgames to ballrooms and had no mind for courting, and even if you had turned a similar eye on me what could I possibly have had to offer that would make such a match acceptable to your parents?”

“My parents find you a perfectly respectable match,” George said, unsure if he was defending his husband or his relations but certain it was true.

“With the income I have now and the acquaintance of military officers whose associations might lend me some elevation in society,” Joe observed. “Not to mention that it was you who confessed to me that they were growing desperate in the face of your committed bachelorhood.”

George nodded, unable to deny the sense in his words. For his own part, even if the feelings had been open and mutual, the young man he was before Joe left for war had lacked both the wisdom and means to make a worthy husband. “Very well, but why ever didn't you say something once we were married?"

"To marry you under the banner of friendship and then confess at once to being desirous of deeper intimacies? No, I couldn't risk you thinking that I had some secret intent in marrying you or provoking in you some sense of husbandly duty."

George marvelled at the absurdity. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Joe, and indeed if Joe was referring to what George suspected then he would take great pleasure in offering. He couldn’t even begin to imagine misconstruing his husband’s intentions when Joe was the most trustworthy man that he knew. “And now?” he asked.

“Now what?” Joe replied

“What are your feelings now that you know I’m in love with you?”

Joe’s eyes widened. “You…?”

George let out a slightly helpless burst of laughter. “Of course. Why else would I have wished that you love me?” he said. “I’m hardly some belle of the ton gathering up suitors simply to gain more invitations.”

It was then that George realised that his husband looked positively faint with shock. He stood at once, and moved over to the cabinet to pour a glass of brandy. He brought the glass to Joe, then settled on the arm of his chair so that he could more closely monitor his husband’s condition, grateful that Joe’s sturdy taste in furnishings made such a thing possible.

“When?” Joe said, once he’d be steadied by several sips.

George shrugged. “I’m afraid that I don’t quite know what it began, only that once we were married I realised that I regarded you as a husband in a more conventional arrangement might and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.”

“Are you certain?”

“Certain? Why, it feels as though my whole purpose is to love you, so deeply do my feelings consume me. It seems absurd that I should go so many years without noticing that I felt this way, for surely I must have since a love such as this cannot be built in the span of a few weeks,” George declared. “And now I implore you, you have told me that you wished to be married to me once, I know that you were willing to marry me two months ago if only for the sake of our friendship but-”

“Oh, my darling, foolish George,” Joe said, looking upon him in wonder, “I wish to be married to you always.” He settled his hands upon George’s waist, and George let out a startled cry as he was half pulled, half lifted from the arm of the chair and settled sideways across Joe’s lap. “There is nothing you could ask of me that I would not be willing to do. You ask that I love you? Why it is the easiest thing in the world, you might as well ask that my heart beat or for my lungs to breathe.”

George had been half hoping since the moment that Joe had said he desired the marriage for his own reasons and not just out of kindness to George, but it was not until he heard the words spoken that he truly began to believe that they might make their marriage into all that it was capable of being.

And then Joe kissed him, just as tender as he had been on their wedding day, but now with the promise of further kisses and of greater ventures, Joe’s arms wrapping around George until they were pressed together in a manner that had George’s heart racing with the thrill of it all.

Oh, what a blessing it was to be married.


End file.
